


Confessions of a Slut, and Whore

by Psiberzerker



Category: Original characters - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21514234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psiberzerker/pseuds/Psiberzerker
Summary: What's to say?  A California girl finds out that she likes sex, and doesn't seem to care who she does it with.  So, she gets lucky, and eventually decides to stop giving it away for free, when she can make money at it.  She doesn't get all SJW about empowerment, and sex posititivity, but at the same time, if you're looking for a story about shame, and humiliation, she doesn't indulge in that, either.  Just sex, starting off about age 13 (Though her memory is sketchy) Then, in later chapters, she'll probably start to talk about how she slowly started doing it for drugs, and money.Also TW Pedants:  She's not like, you know all worried about grammar, spelling, punctuation, and stuff.  Especially in the first chapter, she barely writes at an 8th grade level, and even then she was a D/F dishonor roll student, before dropping out of High School to become a statistic. So, their/they're, she tends to run-on, and.  Like, you know, whatever?  If you can't just read a story, and play with yourself without getting out the Red Pen, than this might not be right for you.
Relationships: Prostitution - Relationship, strangers - Relationship
Comments: 3





	1. Chapter 1

I know what you must think of me, and honestly some of it might be a little true, but I decided a long time ago not to be ashamed of myself, and what I did. Like okay, I guess I should go back to the beginning. I mean like my first time, which kinda spoiled me when it cums to sex.

I was thirteen, or maybe 14, and in 8th grade, but despite the rumors I never did anything at school, and a big reason why is because middle school boys were super immature. Not just with their "No girls" stupid cooties bullshit, but you know. Like, they don't start puberty as early, as some girls? 

Well, I was one of those girls, I got my first bra in 5th grade, and I'm not talking like a training bra, I mean A cups. Back then, I wasn't all "Look everybody, boobies!" I dressed modestly, and didn't really care about boys neither, until like 8th grade. By then, I had a little more freedom, I mean my dad especially let me go out on my own, without my brothers to keep an eye on me. 

Oh yeah, and I'm like the youngest of 4, and that means both brothers were older then me, and the oldest. Uhm, I probably shouldn't give you his real name either, or better yet, I'll just leave the names out completely, but he was 6 years older, so he started whacking off, and looking at porn with his little brother, when he stopped shooting banks, but I was like "Ew."

Just ew, I mean not like code red tampon time ew, but just, you know. Like "Boys, ew" for years, and years. They didn't like show me the nudie mags, or anything. I had some friends with older brothers that liked to peep on them, or give them hugs just to squish their boobies up against their chests, and kept "Accidentally" walking in on them in there underwear, or naked getting out of the shower, and that's how I found out what boys could be like, but not like my brothers tried any of that messed up stuff, but can you imagine?

So anyways, I had this bike, and I guess the first feeling I had between my legs was like "Ow!" It didn't have like a padded seat, but it was like a Girl's bike, so I didn't have to worry about the top tube, and I learned early on to get up off the seat before I jumped a curb or whatever, but I still found bumps in the road, or hit potholes, and that got me thinking. 

You know how boys wrack their balls, and that's supposed to hurt way worse then banging your crotch if your a girl, but I found that hard to believe, and you know. Boys ride bikes too? In fact, they have ones where they can slip off the seat, and hit their nuts, which made like no sense, if there supposed to hurt even worse, and everybody knows it. So like, what's up with that?

Oh yeah, and we lived up in the hills, but I started Jr. High down in the valley in like 6 grade, because California schools, and I rode my bike down the hill, because it was easy, in the morning. In the afternoon? Not so much, but I cranked all the way home with my book bag on my back anyways, and that gave me time to think. Seriously, what's the deal with girls getting bikes with the tubes close together, when boys have this pipe right there to wrack there nuts on, and there most likely to slip off pulling tricks to impress us girls in the first place?

Another problem with starting puberty early is I was pretty much done growing up by the time I started 8th grade, so I guess I'm what you might call petite. It runs in my family, and if you look at my mom, or aunts (Not counting the ones that married my uncles) you wouldn't know it, because they got boob jobs, but I was never naturally busty, and I still aren't, because when I had the chance, I chickened out. 

Well, honestly, lots of chances, once I started dating. I didn't save up or nothing, but every once in a while, you get this John, and of course he's got money. So, they offer to buy you a pair to make you a little bustier? I get ahead of myself, so anyways, it's not like I had a milkshake that brought all the boys to the yard, you know what I'm saying?

Now, back then, Vanilla Ice was kind of a big deal, because he was white, when it's not like the Beastie Boys didn't do the whole white rapper thing way better for years before that, but still. There was kinda a fad and all of white boys listening to rap music, and saying stuff like "You know what I'm saying?" but I didn't hang with them. 

I mostly hung out at the skate park on the way home, because you know, there was cute boys, and they'd show off. Only if there was like some older girls to show off for, or one of them brought his girlfriend to show the other guys, and stuff. Sometimes they'd run me off, like "What are you doing here?" or whatever, but I didn't stick around to ask them what they ment by that. I mean yeah, I thought about it, maybe it was the "No girls allowed" thing, or maybe it's because I just dropped my bike, and watched them, instead of getting out there, and trying to learn tricks. 

It's not like I had pegs on the sides to grind on rails, nor one of them handlebar spinny things so I could do tail whips, and bar spins in the air, even if I thought I could land it without making it even harder. I barely even did jumps, and even then, it was because I had to, because there was something in the way or other. I learned all the short cuts, and one of them was this bike trail between one neighborhood or another, and I guess the boys mostly made them, because they put in jumps, and tables, sometimes even rails to do tricks, when I just had to get to school. So, I took the short cut, not like there was anybody actually on the trails that early in the morning to kick me off for being a girl.

But enough about why I did it, you probably came to jerk off, instead of read about me riding my bike to school, so I better get on with the sexy stuff, I guess.

I didn't like, charge any money, my first time, or even my first few times, and I hate to disappoint you, but it wasn't like super duper magical, and special, or anything. I was just like, you know, hanging out at the skate park, and watching the boys show off, or whatever. I was the only girl there, and the only one that just sat there by my bike, instead of fighting over the ramps, and yelling "Hey watch this!" and stuff.

So anyways, then this boy came up, and started talking to me about bikes, and stuff. He'd seen me around, and I'd seen him around too, but he kinda looked like Tony Hawk, or was trying to. You could tell, because he had that haircut that kinda looks like bangs, but short everywhere else. Like a reverse mullet I guess, but I kinda liked it, and he wasn't like shaking it out of his eyes all the time, which is annoying, and kinda makes you look like a jerk when you do it in the middle of a sentence. I know they do it on purpose, douchebags is what we call them nowadays, and I even joke about douchebangs, since that's popular, and hipster again, or like the scenester kids back then grew up, and made it cool again, or whatever.

He wasn't douchey though, and they didn't like hang down low enough to cover up his eyes anyhow. He had really nice green eyes, and a great smile, he turned out to be a pretty good kisser too, but the first thing we found in common was we both had bikes. 20" BMX bikes, and he was the only one. Well, I mean like the only Boy that brought his bike to the skate park, so the skater boys kinda semi-sorta kicked him off so they could have it. He said they ganged up on him but not like a gang gang, there weren't no white rapper Vanilla Ice boys, mostly like, you know, regular skaters? They mostly listened to like punk rock, or metal, but they didn't have mohawks, and or nothing.

So anyways, I guess I was the one that steered the conversation around to the top tube, and why girls have low ones, instead of triangle frames like boy bikes, and he thought about it, a minute. Scratched his head, and said "I don't know, but I always thought it was so you could ride them in skirts, and dresses, and junk." 

"Oh," that made sense, but I always wore like shorts, or long pants for like the 2 months it got cold enough to actually worry about it. So anyways, he was like cool and all, a little older, I mean like High school, but maybe a freshman, or even a younger softmore, not like a Junior, or Senior hitting on a Jr. high girl, but like. You know? It wasn't really even like that, and I never even flirted with a boy before, let alone got to talk to one this long, so I wasn't even sure that's what we're doing, let alone had a clue on how to do it.

Flirting I mean, but I was thinking about it while he went on, and about somesuch nonesense. I didn't have a clue when the next time I would have another chance to ask, so I took a deep breath, and even interrupted him when I just blurted out something about hitting his nuts.

Awkward! He shut up, and we both just kinda looked away from each other, and my face got like super hot, but like not. Hot hot, like he's so hot. Hot, you know? It was just like, Cali weather, so I couldn't even tell you if it was summer, or like any weekend between them, and the short mild winters I grew up with.

So anyways, he reached up, so I looked back to see him scratch the short hair on the back of his head. Like he did when he was thinking about girls riding bikes in skirts, and dresses, so I just bit my lip, and waited. He laughed, and turned back, and then he said "I don't know, you just. Learn to get used to it, and try to avoid it, I guess." He shrugged, but by It he ment wracking his balls on the bike frame when he fell off the seat doing tricks. "Just like busting your knees, or hitting your head." he shrugged again. "It happens."

"Yeah, but what about the seat?" I pointed, "I mean, like." I stopped, and just noticed right then that he had his seat pushed all the way down. As low as it would go. "Oh, I guess you just push the seat down, and don't even use it?"

"Yeah, I get better pumps into the crank with my legs, with it all the way down, but I didn't put it down so I don't hit my balls, and junk." He said and junk instead of stuff, but you know, all this talk about his balls, and. Junk was like a way to get away with talking about a boys, well. Junk, yaknow? Also, he slipped words like pump, and crank in there, so I remember that was the exact moment I was sure he was flirting with me, because he stopped acting like it was just like 2 kids talking about bikes, and started talking like a boy talks to a girl, when she's interested. "They don't really get in the way, as much as you might think."

He didn't say balls, but instead, he looked back over his shoulder, and grabbed his junk at me. Not like a rapper dude, but I stopped laughing at his dirty jokes, and smiled. Nodding my head when he looked back, I said "Yeah," and looked down, but took my time. Working my way down his hot young body, even though he had on the same baggy tee shirt, and shorts combo we all wore, unless I had to make dress code for school, or whatever. So, I had short shorts on, and he could see my knees, but I uncrossed them, and sat back. With my arms propping me up in the dried grass. i guess maybe it was later in the summer, or early fall, like August? I forgot about that part, but that's about the time the grass turns ugly beige unless you watered it.

"Yeah." He looked up from the front of my tee shirt, because it fell between my bra cups, just like I intended it to, when I sat back like that. "So, you wear like, biker short, to keep them nice and tight, when you ride?" 

Like I said, awkward, but honestly I had no idea what to say, so I just talked about his underwear. In the hopes of getting into it, but he took the hint, and said "Yeah. You want to get out of here?" I said yeah, and that was it. We picked up his bike, and said "Follow me." I hopped on, and stayed right on his ass. I guess that's one thing better then skaters is, riding a bike, you're not like kicking off with the same foot all the time. So, both sides get nice, and tight. Hard, and muscular, with all that mysterious junk tucked in between his legs. Pumping the crank, I giggled to myself at that dirty little joke again, but he just turned off on this dirt road by the bridge over some road or other. 

He didn't keep going down it, but turned right away, and rolled down the concrete ramp to the bottom. Hit the back brakes, so the tire locked up, and skidded around to watch me, but I was in such a rush to make out with him, I didn't even stop at the top. Big mistake, because I took it too fast, and pulled off the only combo I know. The first one you learn on a BMX bike, just as soon as you start practicing on curbs. An endo-to-face plant, my bike flipped up, and I was just lucky it didn't land on me.

But then he was like "Ohmygod!" He was right there before I even turned over, and his bike hit the ground. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I shrugged, and bit back the pain, but I'd fallen enough times to avoid hitting my elbows, knees, or head, so I didn't have to wear a helmet, pads, and stuff. "I guess you just get used to it." I shrugged, and he kissed me right there next to the tunnel under the bridge. The Tunnel of Love, they called it. Somebody even spray painted that over the top, but it wasn't like pipes, and stuff. It was just like concrete walls, with 1 in the middle, and sand and stuff washed up in the bottom. So, it was kinda like a beach, if you closed your eyes, and listened to the cars drive by, you could almost imagine it was waves washing over us. They also put up graphitti like pictures of dicks, and boobs, and wrote fuck all over the place, but I sure didn't need that to get in the mood, yaknow? 

I bit back a giggle, and got my hand up his shorts to feel his leg before he even realized I was going for it. So, he said "Come on," but left the bikes out there, where we could catch anyone if they jumped down, and tried to steal them before they could even jump on, and ride off. I found out later that they did that also so you could see there was somebody already down there, especially if it was a boy bike, and a girl bike, so I guess that ment he'd taken girls down there to make out before, but I don't know how far he got with any of them.

I never asked, but then I found out exactly what I'm like, when I get horny. I'm a total nympho, and like I know. Yeah, I'm not supposed to go straight to second base, or at least stop on first base instead of cutting straight across the field, and back for a home run my first time at bat, but I didn't. I went straight for his junk, only this time through his fly instead of trying to go up the pantleg of his shorts, and copping a feel that way.

It wasn't like, real big, or even all that special, as high school boys go. Honestly, I even knew that, before I said "It's so big!" as soon as I saw it, just because that was 1 thing. One of the few things I knew to say to a boy whenever I finally got the chance, because I heard from my sister. So he was like, "Yeah?" And then I was like "Oh yeah, the biggest one I ever seen." Which wasn't true, and I mean not just pictures in nudie mags neither, but mostly just my brothers', without boners even and this sure was the first boy that got a hardon for me, let alone let me touch it! More then a handful anyways, so there was a little left over to pump it, and that's just easy.

Like you know how guys talk about it, and do that thing to demonstrate it? Yeah, it doesn't take a valedictorian to figure out a hand job, so long story short, I beat him off, and now I have to say I'm a little impressed at how long he lasted. I didn't know no better, so I guess I expected him to last 3 minutes or whatever. I remember this one dirty joke I heard, I don't remember where, but probably in the girl's room, since that's where I got most of my material, back in the day. So yeah, I guess the punch line is "Just let me put some eggs on," and I was all like "Why?" The first time I heard it, because I didn't get it. So then she says "Because it only takes like 3 minutes," and we all got a good laugh, even though I was still too naive, and inexperienced to really get it.

That sure didn't last long, because the next time I was over at the skate park, it turned out that, uhm. I guess I'll call him Adam, or whatever, to keep the made-up names straight, so nobody gets in trouble. So anyways, this other boy, Brad said that he heard that I like hand-jobs, and that was that. We went off to the Tunnel of Love, and the first time, it was kinda fun. I mean, yeah I didn't like get off on it until I got home, and my fingers inside me, but with Brad, he didn't have to pressure me, or nothing. It's just the way I am, the first time I got to play with it, and shot his wad all over my arm. So, the second time, I went ahead, and put it in my mouth, to suck it just as soon as he got it out.

Well, I kinda wanted to the first time, with Adam? Yeah, my arm got tired, it took so long, and I was starting to even get a little bored with it, but then I got home, and sucked my thumb, but not like a little girl. Like you know, a dick, even though I didnlt have the faintest clue how to suck a dick, besides put it in your mouth cause that's all they ever did in the dirty mags I'd ever seen. The hardcore ones, where they actually put in in, instead of just holding it, and looking at it with their mouths wide open. 

He shot it in my mouth, right away, and I mean like Right. Away. I barely even got it in my mouth, but I was kinda happy, because I didn't have to wait around any 3 minutes for his eggs to get soft boiled. That's what I thought, it was just like, you know, eating eggs, only it was all whites, with no yolks, and raw I guess. Lots of protein!

;

Author

I saved the boring disclaimer for the end, because honestly this is basic common sense stuff you either know, or are too delusional to believe. So, anyhow:

1) Underage sex is illegal, because fucking children don't know what the fuck is going on, and it fucks them up for life. So, don't fuck up kids, 'tweens, and teens, no matter how cute they are, and how sick you are sexually. Kay?

2) Prostitution is illegal, and even without exchanging money or drugs for sex, it's dangerous. Side effects may include STIs, Pregnancy, social stigma, rape, kidnap, and sex slavery/trafficing, moderate-to-severe torture, or your body found dumped in a ditch wrapped in a motel shower curtain to be investigated by the FBI. There's a lot of creeps out there, they tend to be liars, hate "Whores" on general twisted principals, and they'll tell you "I'm not a pathological liar" to your face. Probably because there's also a social stigma for child abusers, rapists, and sexually motivated serial killers.

3) You can also be arrested for public exposure, indecency, lewdness, or whatever they call it in your jurisdiction just for taking a piss in public. Let alone engaging in even more crimes like statutory rape, soliciting/prostitution, incest, bestiality, and sexually motivated serial murder/necrophilia. Nowadays, they actually try to register the worst offenders, when the charges are taken seriously, and they're not made Supreme Court justices, or their cases aren't tried by serial sexual predators with gavels.

;

2B Continued...


	2. Summer Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of (Name Withheld) continue, after 8th grade, somewhere in California. Names, and places are withheld to protect herself, and I'm just not going to assign guilt, nor innocence here. Prostitution is a crime, which is to say Illegal. She makes excuses for it being victimless, but if anything, the perpetrators are the victims, just like drug abuse. Drug Abusers don't abuse drugs, they abuse themselves, with drugs. Sex is her drug, but it's also a gateway to Drug Culture. 
> 
> However, I have to warn you that if you get caught soliciting sex for drugs or money, you will be arrested, and charged. You can go to jail (Though usually it's like, overnight) and that's not the only thing you risk, nor even the worst. Especially in places like California at the time, prostitutes were among the most popular High Risk women, and girls for serial killers to practice on, before moving up to nurses, hitch-hikers, or women that reminded them of their mothers. (When they weren't Prostitutes.)
> 
> I'm not going to judge you, especially since I've engaged in it myself. I can only tell you the risks, and that this is a Fantasy. Where the bad things didn't happen, because she was incredibly lucky.

"Uh!" My dad stopped me at the door. 

"Where do you think you're going, dressed like that?" 

"None of your bee's wax?" His mom always said that, or called stuff the "Bee's Knees," so I knew he understood, whatever that means.

"Young lady, you better march right upstairs, and put some clothes on!" He got mad, and pointed back up at my room. So, I went, and put some MORE clothes on? As if, I was naked just because you could see my bra, and the tops of my fishnets. It was summer, I was a teenager, and hated him treating me like a child, and calling me "Young Lady" at the same time.

I guess I grew up pretty Liberal, all things considered. Just for instance, instead of getting all preachy, he came up, and talked to me. Just as soon as I came out of my bedroom with another dress on over my miniskirt, and tight top, but he didn't call me a "Whore," nor say I dressed like a "Whore."

That was my friends at school, he just said "You don't want to give anyone the wrong idea." What? That I'm "Lose," or "Easy?" I already got the talk from him, and another one from mom, but you know. It was all about boys, that can't take no for an answer. He didn't say like, I'm supposed to say no, he just beat around the bush. He didn't want to talk about this stuff with his daughters, we could tell, but there's a reason why it's called "Women's Issues," yaknow? So, don't. Mom handled all the gross stuff you don't want to think about, like tampons, and cramps, so you just have to worry about me being "In a mood," because it's "That time of the month." 

Well, try pissing out blood, and bloody chunks on a schedule, and see what kind of mood you're in, when you know it's going to start up again, and let me handle what people think of me going out dressed like a whore. I didn't have to go far, layered up with a dress over my miniskirt, tights, and underwear. I just had to pull over my bike to the stash spot, wad it up in a handle bag, and stuff it in a hole where the cinder block was broken. So, there was a hole, to hide my good girl dresses in.

Oh well, I did the same thing for my friends, I guess. I mean, I knew what they'd think, if they knew what I did to get the money. They sure didn't ask questions when they hit me up to "Borrow" a dollar. "Can I borrow a cigarette?" 

"No, go ahead, and keep it. I don't want it back when you're done with it."

Ahahahahaha! Yeah.

They said "Whore" like my brothers said "Fag." Or gay, this is gay, or that is. Even stuff like eating out there girlfriends, and what's up with that? As if you ever hear girls talk like giving a hand job, or head makes you a lesbian, or bisexual. You're boys, yaknow? 

That's just what kids were like, back in the day. If you ever even touched a dick before, you were a fag, or a whore. Even if it was your own dick, or your boyfriends'. I didn't have boyfriends, and I didn't want one. I made up my mind, and that got me thinking.

Well, you know that Madonna Song, "Poppa don't Preach?" Well, it's not about her being a whore, or dressing like one, which is just as good as being a whore. So anyways, if you actually listen to what she said, it's actually about her getting an Abortion, because she's Catholic, and Italian. You know, Madonna? That's Italian for Mary, Jesus' mom, so "Like A Virgin?" Now you get it, huh?

So anyways, I was humming that when I pulled pulled up to the Bodega. Not the one by my house, but another one down by the Barrio, because they didn't hide the rubbers back behind the counter with the Playboys, and cigarettes, and stuff. My dad had them, Playboys I mean, but he didn't buy rubbers, on account of having his tubes tied. He had us 4 kids, and when asked why he had 4 kids, he said "Because we didn't want five." 

Ahahahahaha. Yeah. 

As if he didn't get that joke from Bill Cosby, himself. This was back before he had his own show, and got his pretend daughter fired, for showing her tits in an R rated movie, because that risked his Family Image at the time. He was still in the Pudding Pops stage. Yaknow, before he went to jail for giving girls drugs, and raping them, so I didn't know anything about that.

"It intensifies your personality."

"Yes, but what if you're an asshole?"

Ahahahahaha! Yeah.

So anyways, Mr. Sanchez just rang me up, and said he needed a little help. That's all he said, so I said "Okay, CU L8er?" Gave him a wink, and a smile, so he gave me a wink, and a smile back, but they were busy, so I didn't hold up the line. You know, he couldn't exactly take me back to help him unload in the beer coolers, because that's the way he liked it. I had to wait until they closed, so he had the Bodega to himself, and we could be alone together. He didn't card me for rubbers, nor smokes, because he knew what I did for the money, and like. You know.

He needed help, unloading, in the coolers, and I was always looking for work. I remember all this, because it was fresh in my head, and I didn't get a chance to make my appointment, at the Bodega, after it closed. Instead, I went around the corner to the payphones, and hung out with the girls until it got dark. That's when business really picked up, but I guess, when you been at it a while, you start to pick up on stuff, too.

Like, I guess men don't want you to see them, pulling up to the girls, hanging out by the payphones. Just in case you got a call on your pager, it was nice to have them, to call them back? I guess he picked me, because I was the youngest, and that's the whole reason why I hung out on that corner. I guess, that and I could buy rubbers when I ran out. 

It pays to advertise, and if you stand next to someone older. Some guys like big tits, or black, or Latino, or whatever, but I don't have to tell you that a lot of them sure like you young, and blond. Finally, the sun went down, and a car pulled up. He leaned over to roll the window down, and said, "Hey little girl," so I knew he wanted me.

He didn't look like a cop, but I guess if you're going to work Vice, it pays not to advertise, right? I went around his side, and said, "Move over, and let me drive." He asked why, so i told him, "You got a license, right? Well, I got my learner's permit, and I can use the practice." It wasn't like, you know, a police car? It was really more like the hatchbacks they got us for Driver's Ed, because if you pull up in an undercover cop car, you kinda look like an undercover cop. He shook his head no, so I rolled my eyes, and said "Besides, the steering wheel gets in the way of whatever you want." So finally, he put it in park, and scooted over. Unlocked the door, and rolled up his window, so I could get in, and pull the seat up. Check the mirrors, just like they taught me, and put it in drive.

"So," anyways, "What are we talking here?"

"Depends on how much you want." He played beat around the bush, but that doesn't clue you in. They all beat around the bush, just like drug dealers. 

"You a cop?" You ever heard that, they can't lie and say they're not cops, if you ask them if they're a cop? Yeah, they totally can.

He laughed, "Are you?" and played it off as a joke. So, I got down to business before I made the block, and pulled up to the empty lot. 

"Well, fifty for a tugger, seventy five for blow, and a hundred for all the way, but if you want to put it in my butt, that's extra." I looked him over, before I even got in, but even though he said the little girl line, he didn't strike me as the kinda guy that just wanted me to sit in his lap, and call him daddy while he felt me up. 

"Well, I only have a hundred with me," he got his wallet out, "So all the way is fine with me." Now, nobody told me that they could do it with you, pay you, and then arrest you to get their money back. For "Evidence," but that's a pretty good racket, they got there. You know? If you're a cop, and you can get on Vice, then you get to do Statch, and arrest me for soliciting prostitution. He didn't even have to wear a wire, because they had the whole car wired up with microphones, and a tape recorder. I know because he showed me when he popped up the arm rest, and stopped the tape.

A long story short, he didn't have no trouble getting it up, even before I got it out, rolled a rubber on, and pinched the tip for his load. Popped it in my mouth to get it wet first, until he said "I'm not paying you to suck me off." He put his seat back down, and I climbed on to do it, but I kept my eyes open so I could look out for anybody else showing up. Not that they could see me, that's the real reason why I wanted to drive. I mean yeah, I liked to practice for whenever I got to take my driving test, but if you let them drive, then they usually want to park over in the corner, where it's dark. 

Like that's not suspicious, but if you park right under the light, then it shines down on the windshield, and they can't see in. Like the cops can't see in, even if they shine the flashlight in, without leaning over to shade their eyes with their hand. Or perverts, cause they know the sistas use that empty lot to turn tricks, and they just want a free show to beat off too. They do that sometimes, too. It's like a mirror, as long as you don't open the door, or turn on the dome light, but he felt me up, and squeezed my boobs. Said "ooh yeah," and even "Slow down, we have all night."

I rolled my eyes, but it's not like I was in any hurry, nor payed by the hour. I already had his 5 twenty dollar bills, tucked in my purse when I got the rubber out. Pretty much business as usual, but you know I actually like the guys that take there time? That way, I can get into it, but he wasn't really a talker. He didn't say too much, just the usual stuff. "Oh yeah, nice tight pussy," talking to the tape recorder.

They didn't play that part, when we got to court. He ran it back, to just the part where I talked business. I got to hear myself, quiet, and far off on account of being outside, and far away from the mic when I said the steering wheel gets in the way. It does! I sure wasn't going to get out, put the seats up, and get in the back seat, when it's a little 2 door hatchback like that, unless that's what he wants. I don't know what the deal is with the back seat, like that's such a great place to do it, that they sing songs about it, and stuff. If I had my way, I'd do it in a bed, or at least somewhere where they have a nice comfy couch, but most of them don't want to take me home, neither.

Finally he finished, went soft, and slipped out. "Huh!" I wasn't even close, but I said "That was wonderful!" anyways. Guys like to hear that kinda stuff. They want you to lie, and tell them they're the best you ever had, or I've never seen such a big dick before, mister! Yeah, right. A whore tells you that, and you believe it, you should probably see a shrink about that. I didn't have to fake an orgasm, or anything. Turns out he was Vice, so he heard it all before, anyways.

He offered to take me home, and I said, "No, that's okay. You can just drop me off at the Bodega," while I got out my pack of tissues, and dried myself out. Pulled up my underwear, and fixed my bra, but I had to climb over so he could scoot back behind the wheel. So, I was sitting in back, when he asked "Can I see it?"

I giggled, "What?" as if he hadn't just seen me half naked, and had his hands all over me, let alone being inside me.

"Your learner's permit."

I giggled politely, again. "No," but I was starting to get a little creeped out. You know, when you do this long enough, you start to talk to the Sistas, or the Latino girls, and they'll tell you all the war stories about the Johns that go wrong. You say the wrong thing, or they want to get rough with you, just because. Offer to take you home, just to find out where you live, but none of them tried to card me before. Yaknow, to get my name, when he didn't even ask that, but you can't be too careful, and besides. Even if he didn't want to break in when we're gone, and steal my underwear to sniff, and jack off remembering that one time. We had sex in the parking lot around the corner, I can't afford them coming by my house, and asking my dad if I can come out, and play.

"Tell you what, how bout I show you mine," he pulled out another wallet, from another pocket, "And you show me your's?"

That's when he hit the door locks. Electric door locks, when he had to roll down the windows the old fashioned way, because it was a late model hatchback, and didn't even have a tape player, let alone a diskman to plug in the tape adapter, just a radio, with dials, and a badge.

"Huh!" He caught me, busted me, and I even hopped right in the back seat where I couldn't jump out, and trade road rash for a ride to the station with him. 

"Come on, hand it over." I didn't even notice that we was going the wrong way, he didn't even head towards the Bodega, and he flipped open my wallet when I got it out. Held it up to read my name, "You're under arrest for prostitution, you have the right to remain silent..." 

I just rolled my eyes, and crossed my arms. Yeah yeah, say and do. Attourney will be provided if I can't afford one, after he took his money back for "Evidence," I didn't even have enough for bail, but at least he didn't have to search me. Just my purse, "You don't have any weapons, or drugs in here?" he put on gloves first.

"See for yourself," I wasn't resisting, but I wasn't going to help, or admit to anything, neither.

"Needles?"

"No, I'm not a junkie, god!" I rolled my eyes, but he didn't take long finding the zipper pocket inside. The joint, and some pills I got from a friend.

"Where'd you get these?" He held up a baggy.

"I don't know, somebody must have dropped them, so I saw them in the gutter, and picked them up."

"What happened to you?"

"What do you mean, what happened to you?"

"You're a good girl, from a good family, I can tell just from the way you're dressed." Yeah, right. "How'd you get involved in all this so young?"

I just bit my lip, since he said I have the right to be silent, and anything I said could be used against me, but I already said enough. He left me handcuffed to a pipe in the parking garage, underneath the police station while he went though my purse, asked me questions, and then went back in the car to run the tape back. He played it until I got in, then hit record, to ask me more questions.

And record over the whole part, where he agreed to fuck me, the ooh yeahs, nice tight pussy, since he already got all he needed before that. Me telling him how much for what. 50 for a tugger, if he wanted to just talk, and feel me up in his lap, while I called him daddy, or told him I never done nothing like this before.

Well, I never got busted, for hooking before. "You ever been arrested before?"

"Don't you guys have my record?" He unhooked the handcuff from the pipe. "Why don't you look it up?" Yeah, for like shoplifting, or skipping school, but I never been in jail jail before. Just the station, and the little cells they had for you to wait in, while they wrote up the report, or whatever. "I get a phone call, right?"

"No, you're not entitled to a phone call, but if you behave yourself, and answer a few questions."

"Never mind," who was I going to call, anyways? Hey dad, can you come pick me up at the jail? Bring money, for bail. What for? Uhm. 

Well? He just wanted to know about other people. Who's my pimp? "I don't have one." He didn't believe me.

"Come on, you know if he threatened you, we can protect you, as a witness, but you have to help me, help you."

"Well, i guess I could make someone up, if that will get you out of here. His name's John, you know John Doe?"

"Why do you protect men that make you degrade yourselves like this?"

"Because there's nobody to protect? God, how long have you been doing this, rookie? You never even talked to an independent whore before? I told you, I don't have a pimp, we don't want to share the money with him when we do all the work. Besides, what would I pay him for, to not beat me up? Ask the girls, on the corner. They don't have pimps either, that's why we stick together on the corner. So, we don't need a pimp, we look out for each other."

And besides, they told me I can say that, and what to say. It's not like it's sex all the time, most of the time you just stand around, shoot the shit, and wait your turn, because it's the John's choice who gets picked up.

"So, where'd you get the drugs?" He changed the subject, "Is that what you need the money for, weed, and pills?"

"No, I told you I found it." Oh yeah, I'm totally going to snitch on my drug dealers, you bet! They won't just smack you around, and threaten to cut you like a pimp. They'll straight up shoot you, just like that. No questions, just POP! "You want to share this big bust," he looked down, "With Homicide? If I tell you, they'll kill me, and everyone else that was on the corner, just for talking to me, before I talked to you. You say you can protect me, but you going to protect my friends, too? I know you're vice, and not NARC, but you know the NARCs, right? You talk to them at the donut shop or whatever, you know how they operate."

"The Dominicans?" He guessed, just on account of the neighborhood where he picked me up.

"I don't know, what's the difference? Yeah, I'll ask them next time. Let me get a spliff of Mowie Wowie, and while you're at it, are you Mexican, or Dominicans? How do you say shoot me in Spanish again? I. Don't. Know."

Finally he left me alone in there, to talk to his manager, or whatever. Dodged a bullet there, because he cared more about the pot then the scripts, and those were a friend of mine's from school. Just what I needed, them picking her up for selling her Ritalin, and telling her, so she can blab to everyone at school that I got arrested for hooking over behind the Bodega. 

Finally, someone came in, and took the cuffs off, with a phone. So, I could call the payphone. I sure wasn't calling any of their pagers, on a cop phone so they could get those numbers, but finally Fanny picked up.

"Hey, Tiff. Can you call my dad, and tell him I'm sleeping over tonight? Yeah, and I need to borrow some money to get out."

"How much?"

"I don't know how much, I haven't talked to the judge yet." 

"Sure thing, shoog. You all right?" Mama Tiff, they call her, or just Fanny. She's one of the sistas, but they call her Momma Tiff, because she's like that. Big old black lady, with a fat ass, but you know, some guys like that, too. Mostly white boys, from what I seen. 

At least I got a lady lawyer. Lori Laughlin lady lawyer, esquire. At least she had some idea what it was like being young, and horny, if not hooking, but she asked the same thing. So, I had to write an essay, "How I got into whoring," to cut a deal. I had to give up somebody, but anyways. That's how I got arrested, the first time I had to spend the night in jail...

[I didn't want to, but I didn't know what else to do. I already got busted for shoplifting, but some friends of mine. They peer pressured me to steal something dirty. They had the nudie mags behind the counter, but the one thing I could find was rubbers, and I figured we could, I don't know, like. Maybe blow them up, or make water balloons out of them or whatever, you know? I was young, uh. Maybe 13, and stupid, and I just wanted to fit in with the bad girls. Impress them, so I followed them to the Bodega, and swiped a box of rubbers while they tried to distract Mr. Sanches. I guess I giggled, or something, cause it's kinda funny, you know? So anyways, he wasn't buying it, because I didn't have any money, and they were all poor, so they didn't buy nothing neither. Along story short, he grabbed me before I got out the door, and the girls ran, so I was busted, but he stuck his hands down my pants, and said "What you got in here?" Or something like that, even though I stuck them in my purse, but he used that as an excuse to get in my pants. He touched me, through my underwear, and I said "No, don't touch me there, stop!" But he didn't take that for an answer, he said I was in enough trouble already, and if I didn't cooperate, he'd call the cops, and get me arrested again. I already got in trouble for stealing candy, and stuff in 6 grade, but that didn't give him no right to take advantage of me. So anyways, I didn't see no other way out, so I said "No, don't call the cops, I'll do anything!" When really I just didn't want my dad to find out, and ground me again. I don't got nothing against you cops, and lawyers, and stuff. You're just doing your job, and making me feel safe from the real criminals, but I know what I did was wrong, and I'm sorry. I know prostitution is a crime, and all, but really, who's it hurting? Nobody but the girls get hurt, and we don't get the protection of the law, because if a pimp beats us up, and rapes us, or a drug dealer, who're we going to call, Ghostbusters? We sure can't call you, because you'll just arrest us too, and it's legal in Nevada, you know? Why's it legal there if it's so bad, but you lock us up with drug dealers, and murderers here, and that's not fair to us, is it? So anyways, I guess I played along with him. Mister Sanches, the owner of the Bodega? Yeah, the one where officer what's his nuts found me. Yeah, he'll probably lie, and say he didn't know about the girls hanging around, and using his pay phones, but come on. The cops sure know a bunch of hookers when they see us, and he threatened to call you and lock us up for loitering if we didn't give him freebies, but he's the ring-leader. I guess, he's not like a pimp really, he just runs the bodega, and doesn't bust us for turning tricks on his property, but since you asked, how I got in the business? Well, that's how, I tried to steal rubbers to act cool for the bad girls, and I got busted, so he thought I needed them for my boyfriend, when I never even had a boyfriend before then, but I tried to tell him that, and he didn't believe me. He said "I'm your boyfriend now," and molested me, and made me suck on his burrito dick, and showed me how to put on rubbers, and then he broke my cherry in the the beer cooler after the store closed up for the night. Then, he said I could "Come back any time," so he could sell me, and my friends cigarettes, and he didn't even card us, but if I wanted to make some money, I could always stay behind, and do him in the cooler. So, after a while I got used to it, and I even liked it. The sex, I mean, he's not that dirty for a Mexican, and that's how he got me to do it for him with some of his friends. He said "If you like me, then you'll love John." That's not his real name, I don't know his real name, he just said to call him "John," but he showed me the tricks of the trade, and then when he thought I was good enough, he turned me out to the corner to pick up some more Johns until your Vice cop found me, and you know all the rest.] 

; 

Author's Notes: 

Now, I'm not gonna lie to you cool, but this isn't the kinda fantasy where the slutty little girl has big orgasms, and stuff. I know, sexy right? Well, the fantasy is that the real bad stuff doesn't happen, she's lucky she just got arrested, and not picked up by a "Thatch" (Walter Jon Williams, "Hard Wired") Who just wants to hurt girls for being whores, because he hates women, and blames them for his psycho-sexual problems. TBPH, it's not sex, it's work. Sex Work, but it's more like acting than having sex. You rarely if ever get any pleasure out of it, but she's one of the few that got into it because sex is a Compulsion, and she lies to herself. 

They're self serving lies, because she told herself that she's not hurting anyone, rather than face the fact that she's hurting herself. She is her own victim, and she doesn't like feeling like the victim, so she says there's nothing wrong with it, enough times that she started to believe it. Just like the Pseudocidal teen that cuts herself out of boredom, then say it's "To feel something," when the truth is, she doesn't know why she does it either, it's compulsive. So, you say she does it "For attention," and leave it at that. That's why when she's finally forced to recount how she turned from a slut to a whore, she's not going to tell the truth to anyone. Let alone vice cops, public defenders, and judges that already assume that some man (Preferably black, or Hispanic) forced her into it, and care more about frying a bigger fish than believe her when she says she got into it, because she wanted to.

She was young, and she didn't know what she was doing. It's human nature, to try to find someone to blame, interrogate a scared little girl (that hates being treated like a little girl) until she gives you a name. So, you have someone to arrest, and close the case. You look for answers, and then you find one, so you stop looking before you find the whole truth. Just like your car keys are always the last place you look, because then you stop looking, but you don't stop losing your keys. This is one of the "Cracks," that girls "Fall through." Sometimes, no ONE is to blame, and it's everyone conspiring to find a scapegoat for social problems we don't want to look at too long, and hard, like teenage prostitution. So, they find the easy answer, and ignore anything else that doesn't fit into the narrative. 

Unless you want to look long, and hard at teenage prostitutes, because they're sexy, and you want something to masturbate to. Well, I'm not getting any more Social Justice with you, but I'm not going to lie to you, either. It's really not that sexy at all, when you've been there, done that, and given the tee-shirt to Goodwill. 

Oh yeah, and it's about 1987, because she just "Made up" a name like Lori Laughlin, without remembering that she must have subconsciously dredged it up from the credits of some show on TGIF. It might have been Ashley Olson, but that doesn't sound like Lady Lawyer (With a little Alliteration.) Also, I'm not all that concerned about ruining her good name by associating her with defending a child prostitute in a court of law, but if you like. You can assume that her Public Defender looks like "Aunt Becky." 


End file.
